


I'm A Rebel Just For Kicks

by antisocial_muppet



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist!Gerard Way, Fluff, M/M, and pete's kinda just there, basement!gerard way, but he is in all my fics, frank's kinda creepy ngl, mikey's also a bitch, otp prompt, pency prep!frank iero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:13:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antisocial_muppet/pseuds/antisocial_muppet
Summary: And suddenly Gerard is crying, big ugly sobs that are shaking his awkward frame. Some tiny part of him is aware he’s probably over reacting but the even larger part of him that’s sure he’s going to die here alone is steadily swallowing it. It’s dark and scary and Gerard just wants to go home. 'Oh god!' Gerard thinks, 'I’m going to die a virgin! Well I mean I’m not technically a virgin, but I just sucked his dick, so there was no actual penetration. That doesn’t count, right?'Also known as the one where Gerard's a fucking idiot and gets himself stuck in a porta potty at a Pency Prep concert and Frank has to come save him.





	I'm A Rebel Just For Kicks

Gerard honestly doesn’t know how he gets himself into these situations. He rattles the door of the porta potty again. Literally no one he knows has even gotten stuck in a porta potty. Is this just a Gerard thing? Is Gerard just so incompetent he can’t go through with normal life functions?

He decides it’s Mikey’s fault. He’s the one that dragged Gerard to this stupid outdoor concert in the middle of fucking nowhere. Actually no, it’s Pete’s fault. Cause Gerard is pretty sure he’s got Mikey under some kind of spell because this was all Pete’s idea and Mikey looked actually excited during the car ride here. What is he even doing here? He missed a Monty Python marathon on TV for THIS! He’s never heard of this band, everyone here is stoned, and the only quiet place of refuge is this fucking porta potty that Gerard can’t get his ass out off. 

Gerard can hear the distant thrum of music and feel the cool plastic of the porta potty vibrating from the sound waves. At least the band is pretty good. It would be a lot worse if he were stuck in the bathroom at a teletubbies concert or something. Do teletubbies even have concerts? This is not what Gerard should be focusing on right now. It’s gotten kind of dark at this point and Gerard is really starting to get anxious. Thank god this is apparently a state of the art porta potty or some shit because it’s equipped with a tiny light illuminating the plastic stall. When did Gerard’s life come to this? Hiding in a tiny plastic toilet with his sketchbook because he can’t physically bear to have human interaction. This is getting really sad really fast.

The problem starts when the music stops. He can still hear the excited chatter of tipsy teens outside, but the concert is clearly over. Gerard bangs his dead phone on the side of the stall hoping some god will look down on him and decide to gift him with a portable charger or maybe even an outlet. The no battery sign blinks on his crusty screen, clearly mocking him. The worst part is that is really smells. It’s a complex mix of chemicals and about a thousand other people’s shit. Gerard thinks if he ever smells Clorox again he’s goanna barf. 'I’m going to die here. I’m going to curl up and die in an ugly ass porta potty in the middle of nowhere because of my life-threateningly inept social skills. Mikey and fucking skinny jeans Pete are going to run off into the sunset and forget about me forever.' Gerard muses as he bangs his head on the door in front of him. 

He suddenly hears someone jiggling the lock. “Hey!” Gerard yells to his potential savior, a grin spreading across his face. 

“Oh, sorry man. Didn’t know somebody was in here.” And with that the mysterious voice is gone

Gerard wants to die. That was his last chance of survival and he blew it like the fucking idiot he is. The voices are getting quieter and farther away. Gerard tucks his feet up on the toilet lid and hugs his knees, his beloved sketchbook clutched to his chest. He’s long given up on sketching through the pain by now. 

And suddenly Gerard is crying, big ugly sobs that are shaking his awkward frame. Some tiny part of him is aware he’s probably over reacting but the even larger part of him that’s sure he’s going to die here alone is steadily swallowing it. It’s dark and scary and Gerard just wants to go home. 'Oh god!' Gerard thinks, 'I’m going to die a virgin! Well I mean I’m not technically a virgin, but I just sucked his dick, so there was no actual penetration. That doesn’t count, right?' 

Again, not the right time to be thinking about this. Then suddenly like an angel descending from the heavens, a voice from behind the plastic barrier of doom says, “Dude? Are you ok in there?”

“No!” Gerard sobs furiously wiping his nose with the sleeves of his jacket. It’s never been so nice to hear another human’s voice, and that’s coming from Gerard who is actually the definition of antisocial. 

“Ok, um, I’m gonna try to get you outta here, kay?” The voice replies awkwardly.

“Please do.” Gerard sniffles.

He can hear the guy outside rattling the lock. Suddenly the door rattles as he yanks off a chunk of the plastic lock. There is a weird scraping plastic sound and then suddenly the door is shakily swinging open. The shitty porta potty light shines an almost godlike glow on his savior’s face. And fuck, this guy is hot.

Gerard must literally have the worst luck in the universe. The guy standing in front of him has a shock of black hair on his head and a lip ring hooked through one side of his coy smile. The worst part though, is that he has tattoos. They’re everywhere, blossoming from his neck, down his arms, and crawling onto his fingertips. Gerard doesn’t know where to look because this man has so much art all over him. 

Hot Tattoo Guy’s smile fades when he sees the tear tracks down Gerard’s face.  
He immediately leans forward like he wants to comfort Gerard somehow but doesn’t really know what to do.

“Hey, you ok man?” he reaches out to lightly grasp the sleeve of Gerard’s jacket in a subtle, comforting gesture. 

The warmth from this guy’s hand is already making his face heat up, and Gerard knows he’s being such a weirdo right now but he can’t stop staring at the hand on his wrist.

“I wiped my nose on that.” Gerard blurts. 

His hands immediately shoot to cover his mouth as soon as the words leave his mouth. Hot Tattoo Guy snatches his hand away from Gerard’s wrist to wipe it on his baggy jeans. His face is contorted is disgust and Gerard thinks he might start crying again. Then the guy looks up to see Gerard with a look on his face like he just murdered his pet dog, and he starts laughing. 

It takes Gerard a second to realize the guy isn’t laughing at him, just maybe the situation in general. By the time Hot Tattoo Guy has sobered up the tension has drained out of Gerard’s shoulders again, and his hands are resting awkwardly on his lap. 

“What’s your name?” 

The question catches Gerard off guard. It’s really hard to reply when Hot Tattoo Guy is grinning at him like that, all squinty eyes and shiny teeth, but he manages to stutter out “G-Gerard.”

“Cool, I’m Frank. Actually though, are you ok?”

Gerard takes a moment to consider the situation, and realizes yes, that at this point in time he is ok. I mean sure, he has no idea where Mikey is, it’s pitch dark outside, and his phone’s dead, but that’s pretty hard to explain without social interaction. He gives a hasty nod, but the concern doesn’t leave Frank’s eyes. 

“Come on, let me help you up.” Frank smiles grabbing Gerard’s hands and hauling him up off of the toilet lid. 

His sketchbook falls on the ground as he stands up, and Frank snatches it off the dead grass before Gerard can. His hands are a blur as he flips through the pages. Gerard has pretty much given up on life at this point. 

“Did you draw these? Dude these are amazing!” Frank grins up at him, excitement sparkling in his hazel eyes.

The eye contact is immeditly akward. Frank hands the sketchbook back as soon as he sees how uncomfortable Gerard looks. Gererad tucks it under his arm and stares at his shoes. The sole is peeling away from the canavs on one side of his shoe and the rubber rims are covered in song lyrics. Gerard has a sudden rush of confidence, which is never a good thing, and blurts out, “How’d you, uh, know how to do that.”

As soon as Gerard finishes speaking Frank smiles even bigger than before if that’s even possible. It’s making Gerard a little dizzy.

“I’m pretty used to this scene. I have to break people out of these fuckers all the time.” he replies casually. 

Gerard snorts. “You a groupie or something?” He says, and then immediately regrets it.

Frank laughs again, and the power of it shakes his whole body. Gerard doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so happy. 

“Close. I’m in the band.”

And now Gerard is actually going to pass out. Hot Tattoo Guy is now Hot Charming Tattoo Band Guy and Gerard can’t handle it. What are the odds that the most perfect stranger Gerard has ever met would be the one to break him out of a porta potty while he’s sobbing like a baby. 

“What do you play?” Gerard breaths out, his eyes wide.

Frank chuckles instead of running away for some reason, and replies, “Vocals and guitar. I even have the callouses to prove it.”

Gerard can’t stop himself from grabbing Frank’s outstretched hand and tracing his fingers over the tough skin. Frank’s hand is like a furnace in his own, and Gerard is tempted to never let go. He looks up to see Frank grinning back at him. Gerard instantly blushes and goes to drop Frank’s hand, but Frank flips his hand in Gerard’s grasp and intertwines their fingers. 

Gerard has no fucking idea why Frank is holding his hand and this day is proving to be very stressful. Gerard’s heart is bumping out of his chest and he suddenly realizes, oh my god are we flirting? 

Gerard bashfully looks up from where their hands are connected and suddenly there is electric eye contact between him and Frank. The shadows from the porta potty light are making Frank’s jawline and cheekbones look great. Gerard tries not to think about what he must look like- chubby face and teary bloodshot eyes.

But for some reason Frank is still here holding Gerard’s hand. 

“GERARD? IS THAT YOU?” a voice screams from the field next to where Frank and Gerard are standing. 

His head shoots around to see Mikey running towards him dragging a very confused Pete behind him. “Oh god.”

“Gerard where in fuck have you been and who the fuck is this random guy your groping oh my god that’s Frank Iero, Gerard what the fuck.” Mikey rants as he stomps over to them

“I can explain!” Gerard yelps.

“How the hell do you know Frank Iero?”

“I can’t explain.”

Mikey’s face is starting to turn red again and Frank protectively tugs Gerard a little closer. Gerard’s heart flutters and the gesture. 

“Should I be worrying about this guy murdering me?” Frank whispers subtly under his breath.

“No, it’s just my brother. He’s a… fan.” Gerard replies, his cheeks flaming from the close proximity.

“Gross.” Pete remarks from behind Mikey.

“Gerard we’re leaving.” Mikey demands.

Gerard nods and slowly untangles his hand from Frank’s. It already feels 10 degrees colder. He doesn’t want to meet frank’s eyes. Gerard turns to leave but Frank stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Hey, you got a phone?”

Gerard has no idea why this is relevant. “I-it’s dead.”

“You got a pen?”

“Yeah…?” Gerard pulls one of his favorite liner pens from the folds of his sketchbook.

Frank pushes back Gerard’s sleeve to scrawl something on his pale skin. The pressure on Gerard’s arm is just another thing proving this isn’t a dream. When did this become his life?

“Call me ok?” Frank says capping the pen and handing it back to Gerard. 

Frank? Wants him? To call him? Gerard is right back to feeling dizzy. He thinks he might be seeing double because Frank suddenly has more then two eyes and then Mikey’s pulling him away and Frank is gone. 

On the car ride home Gerard leans against the door with his head resting on the window looking out into the middle of fucking nowhere and thinking about Frank. It almost seems like it wasn’t real, but the messy digits on his arm suggest otherwise. He’s in such a daze he forgets to glare at skinny jeans Pete or complain to about the Monty Python marathon he’s missing. 

All he can think about is Frank’s smile, Frank’s callouses, Franks tattoos, and just Frank Frank Frank. 

Maybe he should get stuck in porta potties more often. Actually no, what the fuck that is the worst idea Gerard has ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> ok this kind of ended up being a crack fic but I wrote it in like 2 hours during school so i mean. anyway hope you enjoyed this piece of shit. comments fuel my constant need for validation :)
> 
> title from Feel It Still by Portugal the Man.  
> it's supposed to be ironic but i don't think anyone is gonna get it oops.


End file.
